When You Stopped Writing
by Angel Gidget
Summary: Kid Devil is all that stands between Red Hood and Robin. OYL era. Spoilers for Teen Titans 42.


**Title:** When You Stopped Writing

**Rating:** PG

**Chars:** angsty!Jason, heroic!Eddie, Sleeping!Tim

**Summary:** Kid Devil is all that stands between Red Hood and Robin. OYL era.

**Disclaimer:** The characters are DCs. The inspiration is Teen Titans #42, the plot-bunny is Lanaoceanid's, the story is mine.

* * *

Robin. Red Hood. Nightwing. Nothing. He'll be any of those other three, but he won't be Nothing. He knows that he's Jason Todd...but who is that? Who is that but some dead punk who burst from the fluid of an unholy pit with nothing but the memory of a life that no one else found worth remembering? He had tried to make people remember, or give them something new to remember. He had tried to be the new Nightwing. He had tried to be the man who made Batman kill the Joker. He had tried to play the deposed to that cape-usurping Tim Drake. Robin. Jason isn't sure if it was the conversation he had with the kid or the process of beating the snot out of him that almost, just almost, made him feel like he was about to find some answers. That's why he's come back. Answers. Maybe the second time will be the charm.

The Titans may have their slow moments, but they're usually pretty busy saving the world. That doesn't leave much time to update their security systems. Sneaking in is as easy as it ever was. Easier. In some ways, being dead has been good for him. It's put quite a head on his shoulders. Sneaking and planning out operations don't try his patience nearly so much as they used to.

He expects to find little Timmy's room relocated. He expects him to still be awake. He expects him to be brooding and tensing, offering a decent challenge in the sneak-upon department. He does not expect to find an exhausted young bird lying completely exposed and vulnerably asleep on the rec room couch. It's utterly surprising. It's completely perfect.

Jason effortlessly reaches into his jacket pocket, withdrawing his double-curved dagger. He lets instinct guide him as he lowers the blade near the young protégé's eye, moving it lower, as if to insert it between the youth's cheek and the mask that adorns it. It doesn't matter that Jason already knows his identity; there's nothing more unsettling to a bat than being stripped of his mask, endangering the secret. Perhaps the world will seem just a bit fairer after he sees the shock in Tim's (still) innocent blue eyes...

"Don't. Please, don't."

The words are not Tim's.

Jason looks up, to see red skin cloaked in shadow. Twin orbs of fire stare out at him, almost as noticeable as the forked tail twitching in nervous tension.

"Eddie?"

"Hey, man."

He isn't the little Blue Devil wannabe in red spandex that Jason remembers. He's changed, and Jason hates the world all over again.

"What's it to you?"

The demon in the dark pauses to find the words. It's so strange to think of Kid Devil that way. Sure, he gave him the respect of the title--mutual respect was what it had always been about for the both of them--but he never thought to associate the meaning of the words with Eddie. Eddie was Eddie...gopher-boy, the Hollywood-hang-around...not anymore. He really is Kid Devil now. As surely as Jason has ceased to be Robin.

"We're not buddies or anything, but he kept me on here when he coulda kicked me out. He also told me straight when everybody was lying to me or was too stuck in their own problems to pay any attention to me. He hasn't done anything to deserve getting his butt kicked tonight, or whatever else you were about to do to him. Why would you want to, anyway?"

Jason's ready to give the speech all over again--how it's so unfair, how nobody missed him or even remembered him...but that isn't really true. Eddie is standing right in front of him. Eddie has remembered him; Eddie has missed him, is still missing him even. Jason isn't the bright boy wonder he used to be. He looks down at the sleeping teen in front of him, evading the question.

"He should have woken up by now."

"He's been a little...out of it lately. I think Wondergirl slipped something into his Zesti last time he crawled out of his mad science lab."

Mad Science lab? Maybe Timmy isn't the stable-brained baby bat that Jason took him for. An eyebrow visibly rises from behind the domino mask.

Jason is not the only one evading questions tonight.

"Y'know, I was mad at you for the longest time when you stopped writing back."

"Being dead kind of puts a damper on that stuff. Rigor mortis is the new carpal tunnel these days."

"It took forever to find out that you were gone. Batman wasn't telling anybody, and Superman kept it quiet for some time out of respect and everything. It eventually got through the superhero community, but I wasn't really the first person on the 'to inform' list. I felt like a total jerk later for being angry at all."

"I forgive you." First Bruce, now Eddie. What is he now, the freaking bat-confessor?

Eddie smiles.

"I kind of figured that already, but I thought it would be cool to hear you say it."

It's been a very long time since Jason has really laughed. It feels good. It feels downright euphoric, but it has a strange effect. Till now, it has been a game. A dangerous, bloody, serious game, but a game. Jason has masks of more than one kind, and he's always kept a few on at once. But for the moment, he feels one of them drop and tiny choke (how did that get there?) impede his voice.

"Too much has changed. I hate it. Even you..."

"I'm still Kid Devil, though. You?"

"Red Hood." It's his favorite, even if he hasn't always stuck with it.

"Well, Red, you gonna let him go?"

Eddie is looking down at Robin. Robin. Tim Drake. Tim Drake is Robin. He might not be ready to say it aloud, but he can bear to think it now. That's better than before. Progress.

Yeah. He'll let him go, but there better be a catch.

"You've got to make me a promise, though."

"Depends on what it is."

"Don't get all noble and silent about this. Tiny Tim here won't always be niceties and roses, and one day, when he gives you grief, you tell him about tonight. You tell him how you saved his sorry rear."

"You got it...and thanks."

"Anything for a penpal."


End file.
